


Holmes and Valentine go to Nuka-World

by kaelma



Series: Holmes in the Commonwealth [7]
Category: Fallout 4, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Nuka World Spoilers, POV First Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelma/pseuds/kaelma
Summary: A year after the events of the main story, a blast from the past radio ad suddenly starts broadcasting across the Commonwealth...
Relationships: Male Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sherlock Holmes/Nick Valentine
Series: Holmes in the Commonwealth [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/948942
Comments: 19
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read my _Holmes in the Commonwealth_ series up to this point, I highly recommend you do that first. I don't know how frequently I'm going to be able to update this one, but I was excited to get it started. :)

The detective's life isn't an easy one, but it rarely lacks for excitement. Even with the new stability brought about with the destruction of the Institute and the rise of the Minutemen, you still see a lot of folks at their worst in my line of work. Hard to not let it get to you sometimes. For decades, I’d tell myself all the bad in the world was all the more reason for me to keep fighting. I don’t think I always believed it, but it got me through. These days, what gets me through is knowing I’m not in the fight alone.

It still feels a little weird, leaving the Agency at night. I lived in that office for… well, a long time. Ellie’s still in the room upstairs, and she lets me know if any late night panicked customers turn up. Of course, everyone in town knows where my partner and I live, but we still insist that Agency business be done at the Agency. The only interruptions to our domestic life at home are the ones caused by the experiments of an eleven-year old boy and whatever Minutemen summons might come on over the radio.

Or, as was the case after supper one evening, an old ad for a theme park that hadn’t existed in two-hundred years.

_“Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don't forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get 15 dollars off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!_

_The Nuka-Express is accessible through the Nuka-World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.”_

“What was that?!” asked Shaun, bewildered. 

I was pretty damn confused myself. I looked across the room at the man with his hand on the dial… and sighed. “I know that look.”

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Destroyer of the Institute, General of the Minutemen, partner of Valentine's Detective Agency, and my personal partner for life, is a proud father, a good man, and a damn fine detective. Everyone in the Commonwealth knows that at this point. What a lot people don’t know, is that he’s easily bored and I don’t mean your average ‘nothing to do on a Tuesday night’ sort of boredom. The man lives for work, for a challenge to overcome, a puzzle to unravel. It’s part of what makes him so brilliant. It’s also part of what makes loving him an occasional challenge.

That light was in his eyes as he asked me, “Do you not find anything strange or suspect about a theme park ad suddenly appearing on the radio?”

“It's either a bot with a glitch in its programming or a bunch of raiders got creative with their set-up.”

“If it's the former, no harm done, if it's the latter, it should be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

I chuckled, “I'm not arguing with you, Holmes. Just waiting for the moment when you tell me you're running off.”

That softened him a bit. “Ha. You ran off on a case two weeks ago.”

“Kidnappings are time-sensitive, we both know that.”

He smiled, “A fair point. I suppose there’s no point in asking you to stay behind?”

“None whatsoever.”

I’ve learned over the past couple years that that annoyed huff of his is all show, at least where I’m concerned. “If this transit center mentioned is the same as the one as before the War, then it's far west, slightly southwest of the Sunshine Tidings Co-Op.”

Shaun raised an exasperated hand, “But what’s Nuka-World?”

“A theme-park,” Holmes said. “Before the War, the Nuka-Cola corporation spent a great deal of time and money to build various amusements based on their products for customers to come spend even more money.”

“The less cynical answer,” I said as I lit a cigarette, “is that theme parks had rides, games, shows, all sorts of entertainment for families to spend a whole day pretending they’re someplace really special. Kids loved ‘em. Parents, not always quite so much, though I guess that depends on the kid and the parent.”

“So,” Shaun reasoned, “a bunch of raiders are in a theme park.”

“Probably,” I nodded.

He frowned, “Why?”

I shrugged, “Why not? Walls, lots of buildings, be sort of like living in an easily defensible Nuka-Cola themed city.”

“Is anyone really going to think that advertisement is real?”

“Hopefully not,” Holmes said, “but some people may investigate out of curiosity, desperation, or go in search of salvage from the park. If raiders are broadcasting, then they’re far more organized than any local group, and that could be remarkably dangerous.”

“We’re headed off in the morning, then?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“I’ll let Preston know his General will be out of the Commonwealth once again.”

“And convince him you don’t need an escort.”

“Indeed. Though I will suggest he increase the Minutemen presence in the western settlements, temporarily. Just in case.”

It was enough of a plan to start with, and in the morning we headed west to the Nuka-World Transit Center.

We’d been worried folks might get curious and come looking. We were right, but not quite the people we were expecting. Gunners were poking around the Transit Center, and their commander had orders that mentioned a missing recon team. Apparently some Gunners went to Nuka-World and never came back. 

Real shame, that.

A man sat on the platform of the station, muttering about someone going to die and clutching his bloody stomach. His name was Harvey, and he and his family had been fooled by raiders, led to Nuka-World under the promise of a friendly settlement. His plan was to escape and return with help, but a bullet wound stopped his progress. His family were still there, and were certain to be killed when the raiders discovered he was gone.

That was his story, anyway.

Holmes knew something was up when the guy refused a stimpak, not something that tends to happen when a person is supposedly bleeding out. Harvey gave in quick under pressure; he was a fraud working for the raiders to lure more people to Nuka-World. He was tired of acting as their stooge, but had no desire to die or get anyone else killed. Naturally, Holmes volunteered to go to Nuka-World and take care of the problem.

"Now wait a minute," I said, "before we hop on this train and go barreling off, you think we could call in some reinforcements?"

"If someone doesn't go back soon, then people are gonna start dying," Harvey said. "I've seen it happen."

The fear seemed real, and that was reason enough for Holmes. "We'll resupply with what we can from the Gunners and whatever may still be in this place, but we haven't a moment to waste, Valentine."

"Don't think I'd call security against walking into a trap a 'waste,'" I grumbled.

"If more than a few people step off the train, the raiders will get suspicious," Harvey said, "and suspicious raiders get violent."

He had a point. I admitted as much, and Holmes asked how we get the train running. After looting the Gunner bodies for ammo and supplies, we stepped aboard. 

We were off.

And, naturally, we were trapped.


	2. Chapter 2

A rough voice over the train's intercom introduced himself as Porter Gage. He informed us we'd been set up. Harvey had only told us half the truth; we were still headed for a death trap, but this Gage fella had a proposition for us if we survived whatever waited at the end. I can't say I was comforted, but at least the ride was something. Part of me hadn't expected the old track to take us all the way to the park, but it did the job. Just goes to show you shouldn't underestimate an old piece of machinery. You'd think I'd remember that, of all people.

It was a pretty grim locale we stepped off in. The place could give a super mutant nightmares. A manic voice over the ancient PA system announced two new contestants for something called The Gauntlet.

"Holmes, I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Focus on surviving now, scold me later."

I chuckled.

"The Gauntlet" was a deadly obstacle course set up for raider entertainment. It was littered with bodies of unfortunate innocents who had been forced to run through it. We found out what had happened to those missing Gunners; none had made it out. One of them had been ready to make a run for it. One more mission, wait for a way out, and leave the Gunners forever. Start a new life. Makes my gears grind just thinking about it. The animals running this little event were in for a hell of a surprise.

Holmes and I didn't give them much of a show, being more concerned with disarming every trap we spotted than blowing ourselves to bits. The mirelurk pit was a surprise, and the gas chamber was a nasty touch. Never been so scared for my partner, seeing him choking to breathe as we scrambled to find a way to shut it off… but we did. We made it out, made it all the way to the big finale.

A battle with the boss of the raiders, gladiator style. He was in power armor. We were not.

Gage came on over an intercom in the locker room before the arena, such as it was. He wanted the guy in charge beat. Considering the guy in charge wanted to kill us, we were willing to take some advice. The arena used to be a bumper car ring, and the boss's power armor was hooked up to the electrical grid. Good thing Gage told us about a squirt gun in the locker room. Real helpful.

To say we were doubtful would be an understatement, but it wasn’t like we had much of a choice. Wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing worked? Holmes shorted out the armor, and we gave that tin can everything we’ve got. Helps to know a guy who teaches soldiers the best way to fight a suit of armor. The raider boss went down and didn’t get back up. 

That wasn't exactly the ending the audience expected.

"Gage, what the hell just happened?" someone shouted.

To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to the uneasy crowd as I checked in with Holmes, "You hurt?"

"I'm fine, Valentine."

"Plan for getting out?"

Holmes suddenly froze, listening to the raiders, "I believe escape is going to be a great deal more complicated than expected."

Gage was addressing the crowd, "Hey, we talked about this! He survived the Gauntlet. He was smart enough to take my advice, and strong enough to kill Colter. He's what we need. So how about we show some respect for our new leader, eh?"

Their _what_?

The crowd hesitantly cheered, and Gage shooed them out, “All right, all right. Now, get the hell out of here. I'll show the boss around.” The crowd slowly dispersed as Holmes and I approached the raider sporting a scrap metal eye-patch. “What'd I tell you?” Gage grinned, “Worked like a charm.”

“So it seems,” Holmes said. 

“Guess you really wanted the guy dead,” I muttered. 

Gage glanced my way with a surprised chuckle and talked to Holmes, “I get that you have no idea what's going on, and everything is coming at you real fast, but you need to listen. Taking out Colter wasn't just a last minute decision, it was something a few of us here have been working on for a while. Now that he's actually gone, we've got ourselves a vacancy in the Overboss department. And guess what... you just got the job. All I'm asking is that you trust me on this and give it a shot. I swear it'll be worth it.”

“Why me?” Holmes asked.

“We'll get into that later. Now, I'm sure you got a lot of questions, but this ain't the place. Meet me at the Overboss'— your new quarters, the restaurant on top of good old Fizztop Mountain. We can talk there.”

He led the way out of the arena, and into Nuka-Town, USA.

First thing I saw was a robotic Bottle mascot walking around. Second thing I saw was a raider intimidating a woman in rags caught taking a nap. Third thing was the red light on the woman’s collar.

“Holmes,” I kept my voice low as we walked.

“I see it.”

“How the hell are we gonna get out, and how the hell are we gonna help?”

“I cannot make bricks without clay. Our best hope right now is to play along, keep from being killed by an entire park full of raiders, until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We need more data before we can form a plan.”

And so we walked. The raiders left us alone, the people in slave collars tried not to be noticed. One of them couldn't have avoided us if he tried.

"Hey. Just wanted to say, no hard feelings, all right?" Harvey was the only person with a collar who wasn't in rags. My desire to punch the guy softened quite a bit, seeing that red light blinking on his neck. He was nervous, but mostly just tired. Hell, I felt sorry for him.

So did Holmes. "I know, Harvey, I understand."

"Thank God," Harvey breathed in relief. "If it's any consolation, I'm glad you made it. I lost my real family when Colter and his gangs took this place from us. Now, these traders are all I have left. They're my family now. Every time Colter sent me out to lure people into The Gauntlet, I didn't have a choice. I had to do it or he'd kill someone I cared about. I'm just... sorry you had to get caught up in all this."

"Did you ever fail to bring someone in?" Holmes asked.

Harvey shook his head, "Never. Couldn't afford to. It used to be me and another guy they'd send out. He thought he'd try and escape while he was out there… They found him and made him watch as they tortured and killed two of our own. Then they sent him through the Gauntlet themselves. After that, the choice was obvious. Like I said, I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"It's all right, Harvey," Holmes said softly, sort of like calming a wounded animal. "I understand."

"Good to hear, boss." Harvey managed a faint smile, "Never figured I'd find myself in this situation before. I thought for sure I'd be a goner. Well, better get back to it." And he went on his way.

It became clear as we walked that the raiders fell into at least three distinct groups. Some were decently dressed with a fondness for black, others were hooded and carried an assortment of knives with their firearms, and the third were the most colorful bunch, opting for animal head masks and bright outfits. All of them watched us curiously, and looked away when we noticed them. News of their Overboss's defeat must have spread.

And then there was the lady dressed like a Nuka-Cola souvenir shop.

Her name was Sierra Petrovita, and she came all the way from the Capital Wasteland for a chance to find the original Nuka-Cola formula. Supposedly, she runs a museum. Somehow, I had a feeling the museum ran a little more toward personal obsession, but who am I to judge? In order to find the Nuka-Cola formula, she figured she had to collect a code hidden in pieces all over the park. Find the pictures of the co-mascot Cappy, look at them through special glasses, and see the clues. It sounded like something out of an old-time radio show challenge for kids. She took it seriously.

Holmes sighed as he accepted a pair of bottlecap-shaped sunglasses and a holotape of hints, “If I see any, I’ll let you know.”

We moved on.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” I muttered.

“The raiders won’t let her leave the immediate area,” Holmes said, “so likely she’ll get bored before going home.”

“You really think that woman is going to leave before she finds what she’s looking for?”

“... You have a point.”

We finally reached Fizztop Mountain, an external lift waiting to take us up to the restaurant on the top. Gage was waiting for us.

“Welcome home, boss. The digs are yours now—hope you like the look. Colter had some peculiar tastes. But this view is something, huh?”

You could see the whole park, which was certainly something. Holmes glanced around, nonchalantly checking for any way out that wasn’t straight down. There wasn’t one. “You still haven’t explained why you would put me in charge?”

Gage sneered, “You may have noticed that our former Overboss, Colter, was a fuckin' asshole. And that's me being nice. Ended up being poison for this whole operation.” He shrugged, “Way I see it, surviving the Gauntlet means you got what it takes. Or at least the potential. For a good while now, we've needed someone who can get shit done. Make real progress.”

"You've gotta be kidding," I said.

He glanced at me, then back at Holmes. "Seen a couple Institute robots once or twice years ago, but never with clothes on. The robots are creepy as shit, but Institute tech sure is fun to play with, huh?”

“Mr. Gage, kindly explain what the bloody hell is going on,” Holmes fumed, “before I lose my patience.”

“I just told you!” Gage sighed, “Ok, listen. There are three raider gangs that run the show at Nuka-World— the Disciples, the Operators, and the Pack. And yeah, if the names didn't give it away, these ain't your typical raiders, and these morons don't exactly play nice with each other. Thanks to Colter, this place is a powder keg just waiting to blow sky high. One wrong move, and we're going to have a bloodbath on our hands. I think you have what it takes to turn things around and keep these gangs from tearing each other apart.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “And why would I do that?”

Gage grinned, “Oh, come on. It ain't that hard to see. You take whatever you want, from whoever you want. Anybody has a problem with that, you cut 'em down. You telling me that doesn't sound like even just a little bit of fun to you?”

“Not in the least.”

Gage scowled, but something clearly clicked and he… I wouldn’t say smiled, but it was the sort of thing you see a punk do when he thinks he’s got you beat. “You know, I've heard about you. Took me a minute, but leader-type runnin’ around with a synth? In charge of the Minutemen, ain't ya? No idea why you'd waste your time with those has-beens. I ain't no genius, but far as I'm concerned, history already proved what they're after ain't gonna work. But this? Nuka-World... Shit, this was the dream. Huge, built like a goddamn fortress. You run this, the world is yours. And, uhh, you try and leave now... that ain't gonna go over so well.”

Holmes frowned, “I see.”

Gage tried to smooth things over, be chummy. “Look, I know these gangs. Been workin' with them or against them for years now. I'll help you, okay? Walk you through everything.” 

Holmes was quiet for a long time. “Tell me about the gangs,” he said.

Gage took this to be a good sign. “Quite the assorted bunch,” he nodded. "All used to hate each other, and I guess maybe they still do to a degree. Took a shitload of work to get them all on board with this idea, so I really don't want to lose them now. If I were you, I'd start with the Disciples. They might all be crazy - probably are, in fact - but Nisha has her reasonable moments. Then you've got the Operators. Spoiled rich kids, but doesn't mean they ain't ruthless killers. If you can impress Mags, she'll listen to you. And then there's The Pack. I'm not sayin' they're savages, but... well, shit. They're savages. I don't know how Mason keeps them on a leash. Now, first thing you gotta do is get the gangs behind you. Without them supporting you, you're not getting shit done. You don't have to trust 'em. Hell, you don't even have to like 'em. But you need them to respect you enough to follow you.”

“And your advice for how I should go about it?” Holmes asked.

Gage huffed, stern, “The Disciples like violence. The bloodier, the better. Tell 'em they'll get plenty of it. The Operators are in it mostly for the money. They get promised caps, they'll listen to you. The Pack... Hell, I don't know. They follow whoever they think is the strongest. Show some teeth, I guess. Look, technically you're already the new Overboss, right? That's like, half the work done right there. Just... meet the leaders. Talk with 'em, flex your muscles a little. Show 'em you mean business.”

“I’ll need some time to think it over.”

The raider didn’t care for that answer, but he wasn’t willing to give up yet. “Shit... Okay, okay. Just, don't take too long, all right? I'll do my best to hold things together, but don't leave me hanging here. And don't mistake the gangs out here for being the same as those Commonwealth saps. Gangs out here, they got agendas. And they're gonna expect results. You can't afford to forget that.”

“I understand. I will want to see more of the park before I decide on my next course of action. I won’t ‘leave you hanging.’”

We got on the lift and made our way back down to the ground.

“Fine mess this is,” I sighed.

Holmes nodded. “For now, I believe we have no choice but to play along. We’ll meet the leaders, interview the traders enslaved here, explore the park in search of any possible way out or resources that might help us.”

I hated to ask my next question, but, well. Being a dad added a new dimension to life-threatening missions. “You talked to Preston and Danse about Shaun, right?”

The slightest shift in his expression, a wince you’d never see if you weren’t looking for it, and he was all business, “Of course. They’re more than willing to act as guardians, should the need ever arise.” He laughed, just a little, “So is everyone else in Sanctuary, for that matter. You asked Liam about Shaun seeing the Minutemen Research Center in Covenant?”

“Of course I did,” I resisted the urge to take his hand. “They’ll be happy to show him around, once we get out of here.”

“Of course,” he nodded once, and the emotions went cold. Holmes was focused on getting out of this death trap alive, and God help those who stood in our way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Sorry about the long hiatus. With everything going on in 2020, I had a horrible time getting myself into this headspace. But I missed these boys, damn it, so I'm replaying and rewriting and getting back into the story.

Since we were meeting leaders, we headed to the one next door first. The Disciples called the maintenance area under Fizztop Mountain home, so we headed around to the employee entrance. The guard didn’t have any trouble seeing us, despite her face being completely covered. “Watch yourself, ‘boss,’” she threatened, “cuz we sure will.” Holmes did not deign to comment.

The inside of the mountain was the typical sort of decor I expect from raiders, but the Disciples took their fondness for dismembered body parts on pikes to an extreme level. It was one of the more unsettling locations I’ve been in, and I once followed Holmes through a serial killer’s art studio. The person we were here to see wasn’t going to ease that sensation.

A woman with a bit of a drawl to her voice was talking to another woman wearing a bladed helmet, like an apocalyptic valkyrie, while a man in a spiked helmet stood to the side. All the Disciples kept their faces hidden at all times, and these three were no exceptions, the helmets doing the job instead of hoods and masks. 

The gist of the conversation was that the Disciples weren’t too pleased with Gage’s plan and choice of new leader. The lady in the bladed helmet said they were giving Gage one last chance, and if this scheme of his didn’t work out, she’d kill him. No wonder the guy was eager for Holmes to be on board, his life was counting on it.

Holmes approached the valkyrie after she dismissed the other two. “So,” she said. “You’re Gage’s little pet project.”

Great start.

“If you mean I’m the one he tricked into becoming your Overboss,” Holmes said with a warning tone, “then yes.”

She shook her head, “The Overboss title doesn’t mean anything. Hasn’t for some time. Everyone knows Gage wanted Colter dead. Of course, if I’d had my way, it would have been a slow and painful process. But whatever.” She sighed, “Let’s get this meet and greet over with. I’m Nisha. I lead the Disciples.”

Holmes introduced himself, last name only, and decided not to mention the synth standing just behind his shoulder. That was fine with me; I wasn’t in any mood to chat, and the more mystery we could keep around us, the better. At least until we had something resembling a plan.

Nisha was calm and smooth, with an edge. Seems the Disciples only had one rule, to keep the peace of this little alliance between the gangs, which really just meant “don’t get caught.” Nisha was smart enough to know that her odds weren’t great if her people had to fight two rival gangs at once. Otherwise, she figured rules went out the window when the bombs dropped.

Holmes disagreed, “The world needs rules. Otherwise, we’ll never recover.”

“Rules are dangerous,” Nisha countered, “because people start to trust them. Colter thought some sort of rule or code would make him untouchable, but he found out he was wrong—the hard way.” That sounded like a problem of ego instead of rules to me, but I doubted she’d appreciate the difference. "Although I could give him a little credit,” she continued. “He built the Gauntlet after all. Of course it was total shit at first, no imagination, but we spiced it up a bit.”

She was pleased with herself. Holmes was not amused. “How many lives has the Gauntlet claimed?”

She shrugged, “Who’s counting? At least enough to keep the traders busy. We like to send them in to clean out the bodies whenever things get ripe in there.” She smiled, savoring the fact. “They don’t always make it out alive, of course. The Gauntlet never sleeps.”

She was trying to get under Holmes’s skin. Hell, she got under mine. But Holmes is nothing if not practiced at keeping his emotions in check. “Impressive,” he said flatly.

Nisha seemed amused. “I may let you keep that pretty head of yours on your shoulders after all. I just hope Gage is right about you. He made a lot of promises to get us here and never followed through.” Her voice sharpened, “So you better not screw this up, because I’m not about to tolerate another round of bullshit.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “I assure you, I am the very best at what I do.”

“Disciples don’t make idle threats,” she warned. Maybe sensing she was alienating a potential enemy, she backed off a little, made the case for why Holmes should help the Disciples take over the park instead. The Operators are spoiled brats, the Pack are a bunch of animals, the stuff you’d expect rival leaders to say about each other. Finished her speech with a gem; “Do right by us and everyone in the Commonwealth will know your name.”

Holmes almost laughed. “They already do. However, I will consider your proposal.”

That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Aren’t you sure of yourself,” she huffed. “Well, consider this; how much do you value your life?”

“You’ve made your threats perfectly clear,” Holmes didn’t quite roll his eyes but he obviously wanted to. “I’ve yet to meet the other leaders, but you’ve given me a great deal to think about. Do you mind if I look around?”

“Of course not,” she said, back to quietly pleasant. “See what we do here. If you decide you want to help out, come find me.” She headed up the ramps winding up to the top of the mountain.

“Charming woman,” I muttered. We had a look around, scoping out the place. Didn’t find much except confirmation of the Disciples’ sadism. I ain’t the kind to ever wish harm on another person, but I was getting pretty damn close to making an exception for those people. We made our way out, back into the welcome sunlight. 

Heading south through the park brought us to the Parlor next, a former dinner theater turned headquarters for the Operators. We’d overheard a couple Disciples ridiculing the Operators for caring about things like personal hygiene, which was a mark in their favor in my book. Add the fact that according to Gage the Operators cared most about caps, and I had the idea that a couple centuries ago these people would have been right at home in the mafia. Or the stock market.

A guard wearing armor over a suit stood outside the door, “You can head on inside, Overboss.” 

We found a handful of Operators idling in the theater’s lobby, chatting or smoking a cigarette. They all eyed us curiously, but kept to themselves for now. Holmes stopped us just outside the open doors to the main hall. Just out of sight, someone was talking, and it didn’t take long to figure who the gossip was about.

“Sorry, boss. All that’s turned up is that he’s got that Pip-Boy on his arm.”

“So,” a woman spoke, “our new Overboss is a vault dweller.”

A different man from before added, “Or an iced vault dweller.”

Holmes and I shared a look. Had they heard of Holmes? Gage had made the Minutemen connection, but Holmes being on ice wasn’t always a detail folks were aware of. The woman considered this, and dismissed the messenger. We took our cue to make our entrance.

A platinum blonde with armor over a plaid suit stood by the stage, a bearded man next to her in the same sort of armor over a fancy suit of his own. “Well,” the woman said as we approached, “I guess we all owe you for taking down Colter.” She looked straight at me, kept her face neutral (which isn’t something most people can do the first time we meet), and ignored me. After some further critique of the former Overboss, she asked Holmes what it felt like when he killed the guy.

"How did it feel when I killed a madman in an electrified suit of armor trying to kill me?" Holmes responded. "I suppose the same adrenaline rush and ensuing relief that comes with any fight for my life."

It wasn't the answer they were looking for exactly, but the lady moved on and finally got around to introducing herself. "I'm Mags. This is my brother, William."

"Pleasure," he said like this was anything but. The feeling was mutual. Something about these two bugged me, a fragment of a memory just a bit too hazy to make out.

“Along with our co-conspirator Lizzie,” Mags continued, “we run this crew. We call ourselves the Operators.”

Mags’s big pitch was that the Operators were interested in one thing; money. Their methods were a touch more bloodthirsty than what the founders of Nuka-World had in mind, but what better place to make all the caps you can want? No lunatic bloodlust or animal instinct, just cold rationality and a willingness to do literally anything to make a cap.

“Then let me assure you,” Holmes said, “that enabling trade is my primary concern here in Nuka-World.”

That answer pleased William, but Mags was still skeptical, and rightfully so. Still, she said she was looking forward to it and told us to feel free to look around and speak to her if we were interested in lending a helping hand. So we looked around. Holmes wanted to meet their co-conspirator. Me, I was still wondering where the hell I’d heard the names Mags and William Black before.

The old dinner theater wasn’t in the best shape, but it could have been a heck of a lot worse. We found Lizzie in the kitchen with a chemistry setup. A quick glance through her terminal revealed a series of disturbing experiments on some sort of “persuasion formula.” Get settlers to do anything you tell them to, and I mean anything. Also made the connection of where I’d heard of them before.

“Valentine, these people lived in Diamond City,” Holmes looked at me like I’d been hiding this fact.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“You don’t remember them?”

“The names seemed familiar, but I haven’t been able to place them. Would have to have been decades ago, I’d think.”

Holmes’s curiosity had been piqued, so he set about trying to find more information. In typical Holmes fashion, he decided the most efficient way to do that was to break into the only locked door in the place.

It was Mags and William’s room. I wasted no time looking at the terminal while the nosy “Overboss” made sure no one gave us any trouble. Mags had a handy list of players in the park, details on all the gang leaders and people to be aware of. More interesting to us at the moment was the holotape from her mother on the desk. 

“Now I remember!” I said. “The Blacks were an Upper Stands family, twenty years or more ago. Maggy and Bill were rowdy terrors, ran around with their friend Lizzie causing trouble. They were exiled when one of their classmates was found… well, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“Come now, Valentine—”

“Let’s just say I’m not surprised they turned raider, alright? Mr. and Mrs. Black left town soon after their kids were exiled, scared for their lives. My guess is they could see their children’s vengeance coming. Lizzie Wyeth… don’t remember much about her folks, if she had them, but she always seemed like a real smart kid. Guess she put that to use.”

“Then they must know who you are, surely?”

“That’d be my guess. Wonder what they make of the old synth from back home they used to make fun of, running around with a vault dweller.”

“I’m not in a particular rush to find out,” Holmes said and we made a quick exit back to the park.

“I’d like to talk to some of the traders next, if possible,” Holmes said as we walked. “I don’t think I can take interviewing the leader of the Pack just at the moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” I chuckled, “but I doubt the traders are going to make for cheerful conversation either.”

We headed to an enclosed space in the courtyard, which graffiti informed us was the market. Inside we saw stalls set up all along the walls, the familiar shouts of traders a little bit like home. Or they would have been, if it weren’t for the red light on the collar of every single one of them. Their customers were a handful of travellers who had somehow managed to make it here and pay whatever price necessary to not get killed. Raiders watched from scaffolding in the middle of the market, making sure business went smoothly. We made our way around, more to see the state of the traders than any interest in their goods. Came across a handyman named Chip who’d been in Nuka-World so long he wouldn’t know where to go even if he did get free. He talked about restoring power to the old park. After being here for twenty years, he hoped to get her running again somehow. It was kind of inspiring and damn depressing all at the same time.

Then we found the clinic. Dr. Mackenzie Bridgeman used to live in a settlement west of the amusement park. When Overboss Colter offered her a deal—work for him and he’d leave her settlement in peace—she agreed. The doc was naturally curious about the new guy in charge, and took a leap of faith when Holmes let slip he wasn’t too pleased with his new position. “Then this might be your chance to make some changes around here.”

“Such as?” Holmes asked.

“The gangs that call this place home are already at each other's throats.” She leaned closer. She couldn’t have looked more conspiratorial if she tried, but none of the raiders on watch seemed to care. “Now, you could risk your own neck and try to keep them from tearing each other apart, or you could do the right thing and put them in the ground. When it's all said and done, you're still running this place from your fancy house on the mountain over there. Except now, you won't have to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

Holmes regarded her quietly for a moment. “I think you have the wrong idea about me, Dr. Bridgeman.”

Poor lady nearly had a heart attack, “Okay, okay, I get it boss…”

“Holmes, could you not terrorize the locals?” I scolded.

Drawing attention to myself had the intended effect; she was too startled to be scared. Holmes, for his part, was doing that sigh he does when he realizes he’s been a jerk. “I wasn’t trying to. Dr. Bridgeman, I fully intend to make the ‘changes’ you suggest, however it will not be for the purpose of ruling unchallenged from on high.” He waited for a raider to pass, and whispered, “I simply want to help if I can, and go home. Any advice you can give to help me do that would be appreciated.” 

The doc breathed in relief, “Oh. Good. Well, if you're serious about this, then you'll have to take down the leaders of the gangs. That means putting a bullet into Nisha, Mason, Mags and Mags's brother, William. Once you do that, the gangs will collapse and Nuka-Town goes back to being a free trading post.” She looked around nervously, “I should uh, probably stop talking about this out here.”

Holmes smiled a little, “I think that would be wise, doctor. I make no promises, except that I will see what I can do.”

"Kill the raider leaders, restore power to the park for the traders," I muttered as we left the market, "sounds like a plan."

Holmes scoffed, "Not much of one. 

“Heck of a lot better than what we had before.”

He smirked, “A fair point. It is progress, at least.”

Up next was the Amphitheatre, where the Pack was based. The guard informed us that “Mason’s been waiting for you,” and in we went. At this point, we felt ready for just about any variation on raider the park could throw at us.

We were not ready for a zoo.

Shouldn’t have been a surprise, really, with the Pack’s penchant for animal masks and costumes, but I definitely did not expect to see a caged ghoulish gorilla, a two-headed gazelle… and people. Dogs, mongrels, and mole rats walked around free, apparently tame, while a cage fight went on to spectator cheers between a dog and a mole rat. Watching over all this spectacle from his throne on the amphitheatre’s stage was the man that had to be Mason.

“Now that I get a good look at you, not sure I’m buying this new Overboss thing,” the mustachioed raider said. It was kind of hard to take him seriously in his furry pants and vibrant facepaint, until you remembered that there was a cage full of humans just across the way.

“I’ll send you my resume and references,” Holmes drawled, tired.

“The fuck’s a resume?” Mason demanded, then changed his mind, “Don’t matter. Name’s Mason, The Pack’s Alpha. This here is our side of town. You might be Overboss, for now, but I’m the boss of the Pack, and it’s gonna stay that way. Long as you don’t go forgetting that, we’re gonna be fine.”

Mason at least didn’t sound like he was giving us a sales pitch right off the bat, just questioning the new guy and a little show of bravado. He was also willing to talk a little about Gage and Colter, and made pretty clear that everyone knows Gage is the power behind the throne, and no one is happy about it. Holmes did ask eventually what exactly the Pack had that the others didn’t, apart from their fashion sense. Mason’s answer? “The Pack are the meanest sons of bitches you'll ever meet. We do whatever it takes. And we're fiercely loyal. The Operators will cut your throat as soon as they get what they want out of you. And the Disciples? Who the fuck knows what those crazy bitches want. There's something wrong with them. And you just can't trust someone who ain't willing to show you their face.”

I thought his opinion was probably on the mark, which was a surreal feeling. Always good to keep in mind that folks are often a lot smarter than they look. The last meeting of the day finished, we scoped out the backstage area of the amphitheater for the sake of thoroughness. The Pack’s living area was decorated with colored lights and animal trophies, a fine alternative to human body parts. Apart from the yao guai in a cage with three dead people around it. 

By now the sun was setting, so we headed back to our, uh, quarters. Gage was waiting in the Overboss’s bar, and headed straight over to the lift when he heard us coming up. “You’re back, good. So—”

“Mr. Gage,” Holmes was in no mood, “I have just endured a day of kidnapping, fighting for my life through an obstacle course of deadly traps, and spending the entire day engaging in conversation with people I would rather see eaten by a deathclaw. I am going to sleep. We will discuss your plans in the morning.”

Gage didn’t like it, but he didn’t protest. I followed Holmes into Colter’s former quarters, and wondered if the man had been suffering from some sort of hallucinations when he decorated.

“You’ll stand watch?” Holmes asked as he removed the bulkiest pieces of armor.

“You have to ask?”

He smiled a little, “No. But I do anyway.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, let him come to me. Behind closed doors, he could let it all go. Fell against me, held me as close as I held him. I still have to fight back the fear that I’m gonna hurt him, metal isn’t made for cuddling, but it gets easier every time. “We’re gonna get out of this, partner,” I whispered. 

“Of course we are,” he said with a hell of a lot more confidence than I think he felt. “It’s simply far more exhausting than I expected.”

“The hard part’s still to come.”

He sighed, “We’ll see what Gage expects from me next tomorrow morning, and make our plan from there.”

I kissed him lightly, and nudged him toward the bed, “Rest up. I’m watching over you all night, just like always.”

He managed to fall asleep eventually. I did exactly as I promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick states he moved into Diamond City shortly after the CPG Massacre, which was in the 2230s. So Nick has been in Diamond City for at least fifty years, which means he definitely would have been living there when Mags and William were exiled, and I’m bummed there isn’t any in-game dialogue commenting on this fact.


	4. Chapter 4

Holmes woke up not long after sunrise. I made sure he ate something, and we came out to see Gage waiting at the bar. "The Overboss wakes," he greeted, standing up. "Well, you came back in one piece. That's a good sign. Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"'Peachy' isn't quite the adjective I'd use," Holmes said as he lit a cigarette. "The leaders have their doubts, but are willing to give me a chance."

Gage winced, "Hoo, boy. Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Most of their doubts seem to come from the fact that this is your idea."

"Damn, they ain't gonna make this easy," Gage grumbled, and put a confident face on. "Ok, time to roll up your sleeves, boss. There's work to be done. See, this place is huge. Divided up into sections. Parks, whatever the hell they called 'em back in the day. We need to take 'em all back, one at a time."

"You hope that having more space will prevent the chance of someone… doing something rash."

Gage chuckled, "That's one way to put it. Every section we secure gives us a little more breathing room, and more resources. And it'd be good to have a few less threats surrounding us, too."

As much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Gage was smarter than he looked. Spending time away from raider central might also be something Holmes and I could work to our advantage, assuming we survived.

Gage continued explaining, "You stake a claim, plant a little flag for one of the gangs, and that settles it. That park is theirs for good. Who gets what, that'll be your call. Whoever you hand it off to will appreciate it, but the others might get a little jealous. You know how it goes."

To say I was skeptical would be an understatement. "Plant a flag? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," he shot me a hard stare and focused on Holmes. "Look, you leave it up to anyone else, the gangs'll all just fight over who deserves the space. Lot of these idiots can't read, so it needs to be as plain as day for them to get on board. They know what to watch for. So that's it. Nice and simple, right?" He grinned, "And hey—we're in this together, so I might as well go all-in. You want me watching your back, you just say the word."

"No thanks," I fumed.

Gage ignored me, but made his case to Holmes, "C'mon boss, you gonna turn down another gun?"

Holmes was unimpressed, "At this moment, yes. My partner and I are equipped to handle whatever this park may throw at us."

Gage shrugged, "Suit yourself. Change your mind, I'll be around."

Holmes took the sack of flags Gage had whipped up and we headed out.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked in a low voice as we walked.

“Clearing out the parks could be of use to the traders in the long run,” Holmes murmured back.

“Not if they’re populated with raiders,” I grumbled.

Holmes didn’t respond, and I started to get concerned as he kept walking all the way to the front gate. “Holmes. You think they’re going to let us…” Holmes walked right out the front gate of the park without anyone saying a word. “... never mind.”

Of course, it wasn’t hard to see why the raiders weren’t worried about us flying the coop. The collapsed remains of a highway decorated the vast emptiness in front of us, the dust of a post-apocalyptic parking lot, mountains in the distance.

My fingers brushed his, "Long walk back home."

The corner of his mouth quirked in the smallest grin. “Indeed. Come, we can talk without fear of being overheard if we stay outside the walls.” He started moving, following a walkway around the east side of the park. I followed close behind. “Hopefully we can find something in these other parks we can use to our advantage,” he said. “I also need more information on the threats Gage mentioned.” 

“How about giant crickets?” I asked and drew my gun as three of the overgrown insects leaped straight for us.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Holmes said as he slashed at them with his blade.

Hopping horrors dispatched, we kept walking. “Wonder what other delightful surprises we’ll find,” I joked. 

"Have you given any thought to Dr. Bridgeman's idea?" Holmes asked.

"Killing the leaders and hoping the rest of the raiders spontaneously give up?"

He chuckled at my skepticism. "She's at least correct in that the leaders will have to be killed."

"And all three live in places with only one way in or out."

"Perhaps we can turn them against each other somehow."

"All three at once?"

Holmes was pensive. I let him think.

“You realize we’re walking right toward the kid’s park?” I asked after a bit.

“What gave it away, the ferris wheel or the giant lollipops in front of the gate?”

“Don’t get snarky just because you’re in a bad mood.”

We walked through the gate to the Kiddie Kingdom. Right on cue, a voice came on over the ancient PA system, “Well now, friends, it seems we have another uninvited guest to the park.”

I sighed, “Sherlock, if we have to run through another goddamn gauntlet, then you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

He smirked as he drew his gun and I followed suit. “You don’t use the bed unless I’m in it, Nick.”

“It’s the principal of the thing.”

The voice over the speakers was still talking, a ringmaster to whatever twisted circus we’d just stepped into, “Up! Up, performers! It's time for another show! Though I doubt you'll even make it to the Theater, stranger.” We started moving further into the park, and Holmes’s Pip-Boy started clicking real fast. “Shall we take bets on where this one shuffles off? What do you think, friends, the tunnels? The Fun House?” The voice laughed maniacally, and ferals shambled out of the rust. 

“That your geiger counter doing cartwheels?” I shouted to my partner as we fired on the ferals.

“Yes! And I don’t think it’s just the ferals!”

First batch of ferals down, I realized Holmes was right. There was a haze across the park, a radioactive mist. “It’s got nothing on Far Harbor’s fog,” I grumbled, “but we shouldn’t linger all the same.”

“Valentine, look at these ferals. They’re wearing face paint. It’s fresh, recently applied.”

“How the heck does a person get close enough to a feral to paint its face without losing a limb in the process?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, and headed further into the park.

Kiddie Kingdom may have delighted little kids back in the day, but now the confined walls and maze-like streets made navigating it difficult for two adults. Regular attacks from desiccated irradiated clowns didn’t help, nor did the mocking voice that followed us everywhere.

“Do you enjoy that lovely glowing mist?” the voice laughed as a feral knocked Holmes under a mist-sprayer turned deadly, “Feels great to us! Why, we've got sprayers all over Kiddie Kingdom to keep you cool and irradiated.”

I ran forward to help, shoving Holmes out of the way and blasting the feral in the head. It ain’t often I’m glad to be made of metal, but not having to worry about rads is definitely a perk. Holmes was already taking a RadAway when I turned back to him, a distance from the sprayers. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” he shrugged. “The man in charge here is a ghoul.”

“Yeah, figured as much. He said something about tunnels when we first got here, they’re probably lacking the mist sprayers.”

“Might be just as irradiated for other reasons,” Holmes nodded, “but worth investigating.”

“Where do we start?”

Holmes nodded over my shoulder, “Let’s try the Employees Only entrance over there.”

“Wise ass.”

The door was locked, but that’s never stopped Holmes before. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have bought a stronger lock. Once upon a time the tunnels would have been used to get employees where they needed to be and fix what needed fixing, without ruining the illusion of a fantasy world for the kids on the surface. Two hundred years later, a pair of old relics made their way inside, expecting the usual sorts of things one finds in tunnels these days; radroaches, ferals, mole rats of unusual size.

The bunk beds were a surprise.

Journal entries on a terminal answered a lot of the big questions. The employees of Kiddie Kingdom before the War had enough foresight, given the state of the world at the time, to make an emergency plan for just in case the world ended. And it paid off--they gathered everyone they could, employees and park guests alike, underground into the tunnels when the bombs fell. They were doing alright for themselves, until a radiation storm tore through. Lots of folks died from the radiation, and the rest became ghouls. They kept going, doing their best to defend their settlement and newfound family.

Then a hundred years later, some started to turn feral. They called it "The Affliction," thought it was an illness. Maybe it is, in a way. No one really knows what makes a ghoul go feral, but living near a radioactive water supply for a century probably didn't help. Now it seemed the only sane one left was the guy running this deadly show.

We made our way through the tunnels and overheard him talking, irritated. “What are you doing out of costume again? You know Nuka fires people for breaking character.”

A feral growled.

Holmes and I crept closer and got a glimpse into a windowed maintenance room. A man in a magician’s tuxedo and top hat was putting makeup on a ghoul. His back was to us, but he sounded just like the ghoul over the speakers. 

"Yes, of course I'm kidding," he said to the feral, "but seriously, the clown make up helps scare the invaders off and there's a new one in the park."

The feral growled.

The magician sounded puzzled, "No. No, I don't think that's going to work this time. There's something different about this one."

An angrier growl this time.

The magician growled back. "See?" he said, irritated, "I can do that too. Now stop squirming."

The feral growled. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought it was apologizing.

The magician certainly thought so. "Sorry. I know you can't help it. We just have to hold out till she gets back with a cure. Then we'll drive the Raiders out and get the farm back in order." 

Holmes and I shared a look. A cure? For ferals?

The magician continued, "We'll fix this. I promise." He put down the face paint, "There. Back in character. I need to prepare some more surprises for our visitor, so I'll leave you to find your way out."

That was our cue to get moving.

"A cure for ferals, Valentine!" Holmes's voice was hushed but no less firm. "That man is waiting for a cure that doesn't exist, and will probably keep doing so for eternity."

"All the folks here thought going feral was some sort of disease, makes sense they'd want a cure. Sounded like someone went out searching for one." 

"If we can find him, perhaps we can talk some sense into him."

I frowned, "Hold on. I'm all for being noble, but I'm not keen on the idea of fighting more ferals and you getting a green suntan."

"We both know radiation doesn't cause super mutants--"

"I'm referring to how sick you're going to look dying of radiation poisoning!" I was irritated, thought I could hear the gears in my jaw grind. 

“I’m not fond of the thought either. Yet, if we don’t have some evidence for our activities out here, we will attract suspicion from the raiders. The magician will have to leave eventually, and I would rather convince him through reason than violence.”

I sighed, “Alright. I don’t like it, but I guess you got a point. It would look bad if their big tough leader came crawling back without finishing the job he set out to do, and if they decide you’re the wrong man for the job, they'll put a bullet in your brain, or a collar around your neck. I don't even want to think about what they'd try to do to me."

He nodded, “We have to follow Gage’s plan, at least until we have the opportunity to contact the Commonwealth.”

“What’s that going to do?”

He grinned, “I have an idea.”

“You gonna share it with me?”

“Once we’re out of this death trap carnival. The first thing our ghoulish host said when we entered the park was that we would never make it to the theater, and the only place in this park with a theater is the castle. That's where he's waiting."

We exited the tunnels just in time to hear an ancient recording announce that tickets for Oswald the Outrageous’s magic show were sold out. At least we had a name for our tormentor. He was certainly living up to it.

Holmes was right; King Cola’s Castle was the park’s stage theater, where they’d put on a couple shows for the kids. One was a play, the other was a magic act. Now the magician was waiting for us on the stage, skin glowing under the brim of his hat. I’d heard stories about sentient glowing ones, dismissed them as just tall tales and rumors. Guess I was wrong.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far,” Oswald said as we entered. “I can tell you're different than the usual invaders, so I'll not bother with the usual tricks and illusions I use to scare off the superstitious.” Holmes and I kept walking, slowly getting closer to the stage while the showman had his moment, “When the bombs fell, everything changed. _We_ changed. And somehow I received a gift. Actual magic. The stuff of legends. Perhaps you'd like to see some?” 

Holmes and I shared a look and started moving faster. 

We were too late. Like a wizard summoning a creature, and all the over-the-top theatrics he’d need to do it, Oswald commanded, “Up!” and an army of ferals rose from between the seats. “No matter what you do, I can heal my friends, and we will protect what is ours!”

“Damn it,” I shouted, “we’re not the ones you should be fighting!”

You don’t get a whole lot of chances to chat when a feral’s trying to chew your limbs off, so Holmes and I focused on the fight, just trying to get through until we could reach the mad magician.

“Well, it seems your asinine assault won't be dissuaded,” the glowing ghoul finally decided. “Then I guess it's time for our final act. Join me on the roof of King Cola's Castle and we'll see an end to this production.”

And he was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Holmes,” I grumbled, “it takes a lot to get me angry. This guy’s done it.”

Holmes nodded, “All of this unnecessary drama is certainly exhausting.”

I laughed a little, couldn’t help it, “Yeah? That’s funny coming from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we manage to convince him to see reason, the two of you could compare notes. It’s a shame you didn’t bring the Shroud outfit.”

Holmes rolled his eyes and tried not to smirk.

Oswald waited on the roof, like he’d said, a serrated sword in hand. “I'm not going to let you kill any more of my friends. This is our home, not yours.”

“We’re not the ones who just summoned an army of ferals to attack us,” I said. “Only thing we’ve done since stepping foot in this place was defend ourselves.”

“You invaders are all the same! You come in, steal whatever you can, kill the ‘monsters’ so you can take our home!” He sneered, “How many so-called ‘ferals’ have you needlessly slaughtered while ignorantly thinking you're doing the world a favor?!”

“Oswald,” Holmes said, and the man jumped. I imagine it had been a while since he’d heard his name said by something that wasn’t a recording. “We read the terminals in the tunnels. We know the radiation changed you and your friends, but you turned this place into a home… until your friends started getting sick. Are you the only one left?”

Oswald was suspicious, but when he answered he just sounded tired, “Over time, the illness took the minds of my friends... and those that we love.” Determined, he stated, “I am going to find a cure, and fix my friends before someone like you comes along and exterminates us all.”

“In two hundred years, no one has learned what causes a ghoul to turn fer- to get sick,” Holmes tried. “The only thing that is certain is that they don’t change back. It’s too late.”

“You're wrong!” Oswald shouted, angry, “Rachel is going to find a way to cure them, we're going to fix this!

“Who’s Rachel?” Holmes asked, alert.

Oswald calmed a little bit, but was no less defiant, “My beloved left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. In return, I swore that I'd keep our people safe by defending our home. When Rachel walks back through those gates with the cure in hand, then you'll see, everyone will see, that I was right!”

“What if she never returns? How long are you going to wait?”

“I will stay here for as long as it takes. I've already watched two hundred years pass, what makes you think I can't wait two hundred more?”

I put a hand on Holmes’s shoulder, “Let the immortals talk this one out,” I said softly. He was about to protest, but Oswald was finally paying attention.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” he said. 

I shrugged, “I imagine synths don’t make it out this way much. I don’t doubt for a moment you’ve got the fortitude to wait for eternity. You’ve done good, keeping this place safe. But I gotta ask… if you’re here defending the castle, who’s left to save the damsel in distress?”

He was alarmed, “Distress?”

“You haven’t heard from her in years. What if she needs your help?”

He shook his head, “I told her she shouldn’t, but she insisted… if I hadn’t been here, the raiders would have taken everything, killed all of our friends, family…”

Holmes stepped in, “Even if she’s safe, no one has been able to find a cure. To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever tried. Such a discovery might well take two hundred more years, and if Rachel is going to succeed, she’s going to need help.”

Oswald was quiet for a long time. “Maybe you're right,” he said, subdued. “If Rachel is still out there, I'll find her and we'll search for this cure together.” He straightened up, “I'll gather what remains of my friends and we'll leave this place. Don't worry about the radiation, it will no longer be a burden to you and your kind…” he looked at me, “though I suppose it never bothered you at all, did it?”

“Nope,” I said. “Word of warning, if you see anything that looks like me, minus the fashion sense, it’s probably not friendly.”

He nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He handed Holmes his sword, “Here, you should have this. Consider it an apology for misjudging you. Farewell.”

And he was gone, in a puff of smoke.

“Alright,” I lit a cigarette, “I’ll admit it. That trick’s neat.”

We both knew this Rachel was probably dead, but it didn't seem like telling Oswald that would have helped. And who knows? Maybe she really is trapped in a tower, waiting for rescue.

It's a pretty thought, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Holmes held off on putting up a flag in Kiddie Kingdom; he wanted to give Oswald plenty of time to round up his remaining friends and leave town before raiders moved in. Holmes also wanted to see more of Nuka-Town's exterior, keep going before we attracted attention with his absence. I think part of him was hoping to see some chink in the wall, some flaw we could use to our advantage. Heck, I know I was. 

All we found was a foul-tempered deathclaw.

"Did you ever hear Danse's recommendation for how to hunt deathclaws?" Holmes hissed as I got a stimpack in him afterward. "'Return to base and forget about it. You'll live longer.'"

I chuckled, "Man's got a sense of humor I never give him credit for. You alright?" He nodded. "Honest answer, Sherlock," I said with a small smile.

Holmes frowned and admitted, "There is a ringing in my ears, but the rest of me will be fine as soon as the stimpak does its work."

I gently tilted his head back to get a look at his eyes. "Vision blurry?"

He hesitated, "Slightly."

"I want that Dr. Mackenzie to check you out. Might have a concussion."

"We can't waste the opportunity—"

"I'm not risking you being hurt worse than you look," I said, firm. "I know I'm killing a great chance for intel, make a plan, get the hell out of this place… but damn it, Sherlock, it doesn't do me any good if you wind up getting hurt beyond repair."

"If it meant you at least could get home—"

"You're gonna stop that kind of talk right now. You're seeing the doc," I helped him up, "and we'll figure something out."

I helped him back, but he insisted on going in through the front gate on his own. He pulled it off too, not that I thought he wouldn’t. The guy’s impressively stubborn. Maybe I should have said “infuriatingly,” but I guess it’s a bit of both. The doc checked him over, with the marketplace guards looking curious all the while. No one asked any questions, and Dr. Mackenzie said he probably suffered a mild concussion and needed to take it easy a couple days. 

“Limited physical exertion and mental concentration, if possible,” she suggested. I guess it’s hard for a doctor to be firm with her patient when she’s got a shock collar around her neck.

Holmes sighed, “Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be an option.”

With that, we headed back to the Overboss’s room. Gage was waiting for us by the lift and followed us up. As soon as we were safely above listening ears, Gage helped himself to the bar. “Shit,” the raider chugged a swallow of what was probably vodka, “The fuck were you thinking, boss?! Everyone’s talking about how all of a sudden Kiddie Kingdom ain’t got a rads problem anymore, you can see the fucking park instead of a green haze! Then you come walking back in, go straight to the doc, and she tells you to take it easy?” 

He slammed the bottle down on the bar and started pacing. “So you went in, cleaned out the park, nearly got yourself killed, and _didn’t put up a flag_. What the Fuck am I supposed to do with that?” He turned to me, “Shut up, I don’t want an answer, I got an answer already lined up. You gotta understand, the new Overboss getting his ass kicked doesn’t look good.” He turned back to Holmes, “You made it here without help, that’s good, but you look like shit. Cleaning out Kiddie Kingdom, rads central. Makes sense you’d get sick. I can run that angle. No flag? Eh, who wants the kid town anyway. Besides, wanna give it time to air out or whatever. That’ll keep folks… not happy, but not angry, which is the important part. Soon as you're ready, we’ll head out for one of the other parks." Gage walked right up to Holmes then, "This time, I’m coming with. Can’t let anyone get the idea I don’t care about the Overboss’s health.”

So much for finding a way out on our own.

The Galactic Zone was west of Nuka-Town and, according to Gage, the traders used to scavenge for scrap in the space-themed park before the raiders moved in. The dead bodies by the entrance weren’t encouraging.

Holmes looked at Gage. Gage shrugged, “I dunno what killed ‘em, they were here when we took over the place.”

Holmes searched the bodies and found a holotape. It was a diary; the dead traders had come to salvage the tech in the park, but something had gone wrong. Something called a "Star Control."

"The fuck is a star control?" Gage grumbled.

"I don't know," Holmes said, pistol drawn, "but activating it somehow caused these people's deaths."

Gage was not impressed, "Killing a bunch of traders already running away don't mean much."

"I have found it is best to be cautious when dealing with technology one does not understand," Holmes said flatly. 

We headed in. Considering the theme of the park, the hostile robots weren't much of a surprise, but the number and variety was a bit of a shock.

"Didn't think I'd be getting shot at by a walking refrigerator today!" I shouted to Holmes as we took cover from the bot's blue blasts.

"Is it really shooting that Quantum shit??" Gage sounded offended. He got off a few shots with his rifle, shattering the display screen on top of the fridge. It didn't seem to slow it down. “Never did have the aim to knock the batteries out of 'em,” Gage shouted, “Always had to take down robots the hard way!”

Holmes drew Oswald's sword and charged. I swore, loudly, “Damn it, Gage, don’t give him ideas!!” Gage and I rushed after Holmes as he crippled the robot. Then I saw the eyebots. And the protectron. “We got company!”

“C’mere, spare parts!” Gage growled and opened fire.

I’ll give Gage some small credit; the man’s good in a fight, even if I hate how he shanghaied us into this mess. The three of us took the robots out, but that was just the welcoming committee. The whole park was populated by modified models of robots, painted in Nuka colors. Holmes wanted to find the Star Control, figuring that whatever it was probably had something to do with the robots run amok, and the dead traders out front.

None of us were expecting it to be a huge military-grade computer mainframe.

Gage whistled low, “Well ain't this somethin'. Probably don't all work, but... I'm gonna keep my hands to myself just the same.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” I muttered.

“Least I look like something, instead of falling apart.”

“Enough,” Holmes ordered. He approached a corpse holding a black circuit board with glowing red lights. The board was the same size and shape as the empty panels all across the mainframe. Holmes placed the board in one of the panels, and the mainframe powered up.

“Guess shooting it won’t do the trick, huh?” Gage joked as Holmes accessed the terminal.

“Shooting things is rarely an effective way to gain information, Mr. Gage,” Holmes said.

“Sure it is,” Gage shrugged, “you just gotta be careful not to kill ‘em on the first shot.”

While Holmes read, I looked around. The building was a military and space exhibit, a diorama of a Quantum-blue suit of power armor on the moon enclosed by glass in the middle. The fella Holmes had taken the gadget from had a holotape on him. Turned out he was the one that turned on the robots to defend his people from Colter's raiders, before making sure that the system could handle it. ‘What’s the worst that could happen,’ he wondered. 

Well.

Holmes stepped away from the terminal and gestured to the panels, “The system is a Systemized Telemetry for Automated Robot Control, or S.T.A.R. Control. These cores enable communication to all of the robots in the park. If we can find the cores, we can shut the robots down and eventually disable the defense mode they’re currently in.”

“Find the shiny rectangle things? That’s it?” Gage said.

“And not get killed by rampaging robots in the process,” Holmes nodded.

“Right. I’m so glad we picked this park to start off,” Gage headed toward the entrance, “who’s bright idea was that?”

“Yours,” I said.

It’s hard to imagine Nuka-World as a place families once came to when you’re shooting robots alongside a raider who essentially kidnapped you and your partner to force you into being his front for power… but the Galactic Zone was probably pretty impressive back in its day. RobCo sponsored a battle arena to show off its robots, there was a movie theater featuring whatever sci-fi flick of the day, a space-adventure roller coaster, everything a kid with a fascination for robots and astronauts could want. There was also a Vault-Tec exhibit.

The attraction was obviously just a way to attract customers to purchase spots in vaults. I got a kick out of the "Mutations: It Could Happen To You” pamphlet we found behind a desk. Of course, it’s not really Vault-Tec if there’s not some sort of immoral experimentation going on, and sure enough this facsimile of a vault had all the requirements. Vault-Tec used the ride to experiment on visitors. After everything we’ve found in Vaults, you’d think I’d stop being surprised.

“You ask me, whole idea of these ‘Vaults’ was messed up,” Gage grumbled as we walked through. “Sure, stick me underground with no control over anything... What could go wrong?”

“You would have made a fascinating specimen for some of the horrific experiments I’ve seen,” Holmes muttered.

Gage frowned, “I don’t know if that was an insult or not, so I’m gonna keep my mouth shut this time. But if—”

Whatever threat was lined up got cut off by the protectrons on display coming to life.

We fought our way through the park, explored the nooks and crannies of every ride and exhibit until we’d collected a hefty haul of star cores. Once we were back at the Star Control, Holmes loaded them into the panels. There were only a few empty spots left, and that was more than enough for our purposes.

“There,” Holmes announced as he accessed the terminal again. “The robots have been taken off defense mode.”

“Good,” Gage said. “Means they won’t cause any trouble for whatever gang gets this place, right?”

“Yes.” Holmes kept neutral.

“So which is it gonna be?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Gage rolled his eyes, “Well start thinkin’, boss. Sooner you hoist a flag, the sooner we can get back to Nuka-Town and get ready for the next park.”

Holmes thought for a moment. He rifled through the pack of flags and pulled out a tattered sheet with a red knife crossing four black blades painted in the middle. As he headed up one of the ramps to the second floor of the building, Gage laughed, “Shit, the Disciples? Really? Figured you’d be more fond of the Operators.”

I was frowning as Holmes came back down. He gestured that we leave. The three of us got moving, Gage leading the way back to town. “Disciples?” I asked in a low voice.

“To paraphrase something Gage said earlier, raiders aren’t good with technology. I don’t imagine the Disciples will find much relief for their bloodlust in fighting robots.”

“Unless they make the robots fight other people.”

“That’s something the Pack might attempt, but not the Disciples. They enjoy getting their own hands dirty too much. And if any of these raiders could figure out how to use the Star Control system, I imagine it would be the Operators.”

“So you gave it to the gang that would get the least use and satisfaction out of it.”

He nodded. 

I smiled, just a little.


	6. Chapter 6

We had a visitor the next morning. Mags Black left her two cronies at the base of the artificial mountain as she took the lift up herself. I don't know what she said to Gage to get him to stay put on the ground, but he wasn't happy about it.

Holmes had just finished his morning cigarette and a minimal breakfast. He stood as she stepped off the lift, "Ah. Ms. Black."

The raider boss raised an eyebrow, "Miz? It's like you're trying to stand out. You're the Overboss now, _Mister_ Holmes, you get to be on a first name basis with everyone."

Holmes lit another cigarette and said with exaggerated politeness, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Mags smirked, "You can blame it on giving the Disciples The Galactic Zone. I don't know what you're planning, but I want my people to come out on top at the end."

"At the moment, avoiding the animosity of an amusement park full of raiders is my primary concern."

"Bullshit," she said pleasantly. "You're the General of the Minutemen, the frozen vault-dweller that destroyed the Institute. I heard about your almost-war with the Brotherhood too, how you kicked them out of the Commonwealth after destroying their toys." She gestured to me, “Most of the raiders in Nuka-World are from west of here, where the Institute never had a presence. They think your friend is just a nifty robot bodyguard. Creepy, but nothing more. Those of us from the Commonwealth though?” She smiled, sinister, “We know exactly what he is. William and I know better than most. You never did find that janitor that went missing, did you Nick? What was her name, Amelia?”

“Annette,” I corrected, tried not to rise to the bait. “Not usually a fan of kicking folks out beyond the Wall, but in the case of you and your brother I’m glad Diamond City did.”

“Funnily enough, so are we. This suits us much better.” She said it smoothly, nothing but charm, but you don’t last long in my line of work if you can’t tell a bluff when you see one. She turned her attention back to Holmes, “Either your rumored nobility is all an act to get you into a place of power, or you’re going to throw a wrench into the fragile gears of this place. If it turns out to be the first one, you may want to consider showing my people a bit of favor before ugly rumors of synths and interfering Minutemen start circulating the park. If it’s the second one, well. Just know that every Operator in this park is watching.”

Holmes glowered, “I don’t respond well to threats.”

“As long as you respond,” Mags said, and took the lift back down.

As soon as she was down, Gage came up. "Mags pissed?"

"A touch upset," Holmes offered me a cigarette, which I took. "I was a little surprised she remembered you, Valentine."

"Guess it's hard to forget a face like this," I said dryly.

"What the hell are you two goin' on about?" Gage sighed.

"Nothing important," Holmes said, "just the Operators being unhappy with me. They can have the next park, it doesn't matter."

"Giving 'em the next park might look like you were intimidated," Gage said.

"What is the next park?" Holmes asked.

"Figured we'd hit Dry Rock Gulch."

"Hm, the American 'Old West' theme. A fake gold mining operation should suit the Operators, don't you think, Valentine?"

I chuckled, "I think the implication is gonna go over their heads, but we might as well check it out and get it over with."

Holmes agreed and we headed off. We made it to the park’s gate when I heard something moving through the earth, sort of like the sound a mole rat makes just before it leaps out and bites you. Only these weren’t mole rats.

A handful of big red worms with mouths that took up the whole head attacked, surprising the hell out of me and Holmes and earning an annoyed growl from Gage. They weren’t much of a fight, but, “Well that was unpleasant,” I said.

“You never seen bloodworms before?” Gage asked, skeptical.

I shook my head, “We don't get these things back east.”

“Better get used to ‘em, they’re a fucking menace around here.”

Hopefully we wouldn’t be staying long enough for me to get used to them, but I kept that to myself. I glanced around as we entered the park, the Old West frontier outpost aesthetic turned kitsch.

“How’s it go,” Gage sarcastically drawled, “This town ain’t big enough for you and me… ah, never mind.”

Holmes chuckled. “Let’s ask the local law enforcement for information,” he pointed to a protectron wearing a sheriff’s hat.

“Hope y'all are having a good day here at Nuka-World. Ready to saddle up and ride into the old wild west?” the protectron said.

“Great,” Gage grumbled, “More dumb robots.”

The protectron was unperturbed, “I'm the sheriff of these parts, and I need your help getting rid of those no good outlaws holed up in Mad Mulligan's Mine!”

“This is why I hate robots,” Gage huffed. “They don’t even know the world ended, this playtime shit is annoying.”

The protectron’s park personality programming stopped, “Processing: Hostile visitor. Ignore and continue explanation for the sake of the other guests.”

I laughed. 

The sheriff continued his job, “The door to Mad Mulligan's Mine is locked up. I got a spare key in a safe by the theater, but wouldn't you know, I plum forgot what the combination to the safe was! You'll need to talk to my three amigos: Doc Phosphate, One-Eyed Ike, and the Giddyup Kid. Prove to them you're tough enough to take on the outlaws, and they'll give you their part of the combination. Good luck, little doggie! And don't forget your complimentary deputy uniform, courtesy of Nuka-Cola!”

The sheriff handed Holmes a costume, who promptly handed it to Gage, who scowled before realizing, “You got a weird ass sense of humor, boss,” and tossed it away. As we walked he asked, “We really gotta do all that, talk to three other robots just to get a key?”

“I suppose we could simply hang a banner and be done with the place,” Holmes said.

Gage shook his head, “Not with the bloodworms. Gotta torch the nest first, otherwise whoever moves in is gonna be pissed to hell you gave ‘em an infested base.”

Holmes made casual eye contact with me. He’d been hoping for a raider-bloodworm showdown.

“I mean,” Gage was still talking, “why do we need this fucking key in the first place? Can’t we just blast the door open?”

“I try not to do anything rash if I can avoid it,” Holmes said, “and surely you don’t think we’ll be bested by a few challenges designed for children?”

“I’m starting to second-guess making you Overboss,” Gage grumbled.

“Perhaps you should have considered that possibility before enthroning a stranger you know precious little about, against his will,” Holmes steely replied.

“I can deal with an ass of a boss,” Gage played it cool, “as long as he gets done what needs to get done.”

We did the tasks for the park protectrons, fighting bloodworms, overgrown crickets, and giant ants along the way. Once we had the key, we headed for Mad Mulligan's Mine… a roller-coaster.

Gage had kept pretty quiet til then, "People actually stood in line and waited for this crap?" He scoffed, "Bunch of suckers."

"Roller-coasters were a popular attraction,” I commented flatly, “though I can’t say I ever saw the appeal.”

Holmes gestured for quiet as we headed into the ride. The lobby held a souvenir shop and the entrance to the tunnels that would lead folks to the boarding area, decorated to look like you’re walking through a mine out of a Saturday morning western. Back then it probably lacked the dead bodies, of course. Holmes and I had heard rumors of traders who hid from Colter’s raiders in Dry Rock Gulch. We found ‘em. Bloodworms saw to it they didn’t have long to enjoy their freedom.

The boarding area was a massive pit littered with brahmin corpses, bulging with bloodworm larvae. In the middle of the pit was the massive queen herself.

“I believe we’ve found the nest,” Holmes said. 

“No shit, boss,” Gage scoffed.

“Valentine and I will take care of the queen, you exterminate everything hiding in those brahmin.”

Gage nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

I might be getting too old for fighting overgrown monsters in caves… but every time I think that, I know it’s not really true. Or it is, and I’m too stubborn to admit it. Anyway, we got the job done but the queen did a number on my leg. At least we know that Nuka-Town’s got a competent mechanic. I could walk, which is saying something, just going to have a limp until whatever got whacked out of place could get realigned. Gage was going to make a remark, but wisely shut up when Holmes glared at him.

We let the Sheriff know the job was done, got paid, which was a nice surprise, and Holmes climbed up to the top of the theater to hoist a flag with a black heart in a bullseye, bleeding gold.

“Gave in to the Operators after all, huh?” Gage said once Holmes was back on the ground. He didn’t sound accusatory, which was kind of weird, just like he was making conversation. Which was also kind of weird.

“If I have to secure Mags Black’s silence with a token gesture,” Holmes said, “then so be it.”

Gage shrugged, “Just let ‘em know you’re the Overboss, not some do-good General.”

“Gage, you conned me into this mess for the purpose of bringing the gangs together, yes? How does strutting around threatening violence serve that purpose?”

“Because we’re raiders?? That’s the language these idiots speak. You gotta treat ‘em right, but make sure they know you can end them at any time.”

Holmes made a considering sound and headed out of the park, “I often thought that if raiders could ever organize, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It seems I was right.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Gage exclaimed, relieved as if Holmes had finally come around. He didn’t know that every time the topic came up, it was followed with a list of possible ways the Minutemen would eliminate that threat. 

Unfortunately, none of the hypothetical scenarios ever involved the General and his partner effectively being held hostage, with no way to call for help.


	7. Chapter 7

Nuka-World’s unofficial chief handyman was a fella by the name of Chip Morse, which basically meant he was the one who got yelled at, threatened, and kicked around when something broke. So it’s understandable that he was a bit nervous when Holmes hauled him up to the Overboss’s quarters.

“Hey,” I said from my chair, smoking a cigarette with my pants leg rolled up above the knee.

We’d talked to him before, amiable conversation, but he definitely wasn’t expecting the repair job to be my leg. Chip froze, and glanced at Holmes. “Um. Hi.”

I sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “You did tell him why we needed him, right Holmes?”

“I said I required his services,” Holmes said with crossed arms and an adorably defensive frown.

He’s cute when he’s worried about me, what can I say? It’s flattering. Also unfortunate for whoever is in the way. “Look, Chip,” I said, “we know you’ve never had to fix a synth before, but something’s out of whack and you’re the best bet for putting it back in place. I’m pretty sure it’s just the knee joint. I’d try to fix it myself, but I don’t have the tools.”

"Oh," Chip said with some relief. "Well, I'll do what I can. I, uh, never worked on a… what'd you say, synth?"

"Yep," I smiled. "Just take a look at the joint, tell me what you think, we'll go from there. Holmes ain't gonna murder you if you don't know how to realign whatever's wrong."

Chip took a look, "Oh! Ok, I can work with this. Can I just…"

"Do whatever you have to, I can handle it."

"Something must have hit you pretty hard," Chip muttered as he started working.

"Bloodworm queen with perfect timing."

Chip made a sound of disgusted sympathy, "My definition of a good day is one where I don't find a nest of bloodworms in a utility tunnel."

"I imagine it's pretty thankless work."

He shrugged, "If I said I loved my job, I'd be lying. At least the raiders find me useful, so they mostly leave me alone. I spend half my time trying to squeeze every ounce of power I can out of this place. Never feels like enough, though."

"One more reason you want the power turned on."

"Yeah," he smiled a little. "It'd make my job easier, and also probably harder. Once things start moving, more likely something will break… but it'd be nice to see the old park the way she was meant to be seen, just once." It was unfortunate timing that whatever was out of place was suddenly back in place. My pained shout sent the poor guy scurrying back in fright. "You can feel pain??"

"Are you alright, Valentine?" Holmes asked.

"Fine, fine," I waved it away with a chuckle and stood up. "Feels pretty good in fact. Whatever you did, did the trick," I offered my good hand to the terrified man on the floor. "I told ya,' Holmes ain't the murdering type. Neither am I."

Chip breathed and let me help him up. "Ok. You're either fucking with me, or you're the strangest raiders I ever met."

"There is a third possibility, Mr. Morse," Holmes said, "and it's one we don't want anyone outside this room speculating on."

"Not until we find a way out of this mess," I muttered.

Holmes changed the subject before Chip could process that, "Are you familiar with the sewer system?"

Chip blinked, "Familiar enough to know you wouldn't believe some of the stuff that comes out of the pipes around here. To call it 'sewage' would be paying it a compliment."

"Hm. What about the surrounding parks?"

"Sorry, all my expertise is about Nuka-Town. Well, I guess now that the Disciples are setting up camp in Galactic Zone, I'll have to learn how she works. And Dry Rock Gulch, once the Operators move in…" he paled, "... oh no I'm gonna be the handyman for the _entire_ park. I'm never gonna sleep."

"Can't you get some help?" I asked.

"Not many of the traders know about machines, that's why I'm always the guy that gets called to fix things."

"Choose a few people you think could learn," Holmes said, "and teach them. You have my permission."

"Huh. That might not be too bad. I'll think about who I want to train. It's a thankless job, not a lot of folks are going to be willing."

"That's not surprising," Holmes nodded. "Do what you can."

Chip thanked us, told me to let him know if I needed anything, and hurried out. I turned to Holmes, "Sewer?"

He sighed, "It wouldn't be the first time we crawled through a drain pipe to invade or escape a facility. I'm merely trying to account for all our options."

"Hm. Say for the sake of argument we could get a message to the Commonwealth. What's the plan?"

"In that event, I would send word to Sanctuary explaining the situation. I have far more faith in Danse and Preston's abilities to plan an invasion than mine. But I have to give them something to work with, and right now all I have is a walled fortress surrounded by…" he stopped, his eyes widening in realization.

Then he ran out of the room.

I chased after him, "Damn it, Holmes, could you not do that?"

He was already on the lift, "Imagine how I felt when you ran after Winter."

"That was one time," I huffed.

"Distract Gage," he said as we neared the ground.

"What??"

"Hey, boss," the raider in question said as we stepped off the lift. "Saw Chip made it out in one piece. Guess he did his job."

"Yes," Holmes said as we walked past. 

Gage fell right in beside us, "Where we headed tonight?"

"I want to find Harvey. Tomorrow morning we'll clear out the next park."

"Harvey?" Gage frowned. "You thinking of starting up the Gauntlet?"

"I was under the impression it was popular."

"Sure, but we still got work to do."

Holmes spotted Harvey. I figured this was my cue. "There a reason you're in such a rush?" I demanded.

Gage glared at me, "Colter spent all his time in the Gauntlet and didn't get shit done."

I got as close as I dared, had to keep his focus on me instead of Holmes, "Holmes is nothing like your old boss. He's gotta keep a whole park of raiders happy, and he's gonna do that. Biggest risk in a Gauntlet run is you stabbing us in the back with a contestant."

"Then don't give me a reason to," Gage growled. "Just follow the plan."

"You ever consider the possibility that your plan's rotten to start with?"

"I don't know why the boss lets a talking scrapheap follow him around, but you're on your way to being nothing but parts."

"Funny, I don't know why he didn't shoot you in the head the first chance we got. Should have left you in the bloodworm nest."

Gage sneered, "Yeah, good luck surviving this place without me. You need me to pull the strings, or you're both screwed."

"You ain't the only manipulative son of a bitch in this park."

"What the fuck does that even mean??"

"Enough," Holmes ordered. Harvey was scurrying away as fast as he could. I didn't know what Holmes had told him, but whatever the plan was had been set in motion. "Gage, tomorrow morning we'll investigate the bottling plant attached to the World of Refreshment ride. That could be another location for the Operators, and the day after that I'll give Safari Adventure to the Pack."

Gage frowned, "Pretty obvious favor for the Operators."

"There are five parks and three gangs, someone is going to have less than the others. That is unfortunately how mathematics works."

Gage shrugged, "They ain't gonna be happy is all I'm sayin'. Who's getting Kiddie Kingdom?"

"I haven't decided." Holmes pushed past headed back to the Overboss's quarters, "Whoever has irritated me the least this week."

Gage chuckled, "I guess that's as good a reason as any. You wanna get started in the morning?"

"We'll see you bright and early, Mr. Gage."

We took the lift back up, leaving Gage to his usual spot on the ground floor.

"Manipulative son of a bitch?" Holmes cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Not my best work, I admit."

"You certainly succeeded in confusing him."

I chuckled, "At least there's that."

We went into the bedroom. "So which one of us is the son of a bitch?" Holmes asked.

I grinned, "C'mon, partner, that should be obvious."

He started removing his armor, "You're far too hard on yourself, Mr. Valentine."

"Ha! Always the wise guy. Hey, do I get to be part of this grand scheme of yours?"

"Scheme?"

"Don't give me that look. Spill, Sherlock. What's the plan?"

He finished taking the armor off and sat on the bed, his voice low despite no one being around to overhear. "According to Harvey, it's not quite as long a walk to the Commonwealth as we thought. At least not for a small team of properly prepared individuals trained to move and fight efficiently."

My brow rose, "You sent Harvey to Sanctuary??" 

Holmes nodded, "Under the guise of scouting out a challenge for the Gauntlet." 

I shook my head, "I hope he makes it. Assuming he manages to get there in one piece, then what?"

"Then he'll deliver a message. All we have to do is wait, continue the charade, and keep the raiders out of Kiddie Kingdom."

"Oh, is that all?” I let the sarcasm drip. “Piece of cake.”


	8. Chapter 8

In the morning, a pair of animal-headed watchdogs near the lift prompted a change of plans. Seemed like the Pack were getting anxious to see which park would be theirs, so instead of the bottling plant as planned, Holmes, Gage, and I headed for Safari Adventure.

Back in the day, Safari Adventure was advertised to have over a hundred different animal species on display, with nature-themed activities like a hedge maze and a gigantic treehouse for kids. The hedge maze and treehouse were still standing, but I didn't hold out much hope for the wildlife. I had second thoughts when I saw a man in a more realistic Grognak the Barbarian costume fighting what looked like a man-sized green deathclaw. 

I say more realistic, but what I mean is his bracers and boots looked like they could withstand a chomp, and the breechcloth was made of real brown furry hide instead of colorful. He was still shirtless, pantsless, and fighting a humanoid lizard with a sledgehammer. Holmes and I didn’t waste time getting involved. Gage was definitely happier to have something to shoot than helping a person, but it worked out in the end. The reptile was dead, the man was alive and only slightly injured, and… well, quite the character.

“You kill monster!” He demanded, “You friend?”

Holmes, Gage, and I all looked at each other with a similar expression. Holmes nodded and said, “I hope so.”

The fella smiled, “Good. Cito happy to have strong friends. You kill monster, monster hurt Cito and Cito family.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Gage asked, exasperated.

Cito shrugged sadly, “Cito family not talk. Cito not talk to other man in long time.” He looked at me, “Not see man like you ever.”

“I’m friendly, don’t worry,” I said.

“Cito not worried, just not see Metal Man before. New thing.”

“That’s a refreshing reaction,” I muttered with a small smile.

Holmes tried to move us along, “Well, you don’t have to worry about the monster anymore, Cito.”

Cito strongly disagreed. “No! Many more monster. No stop. Cito kill monster. New monster come. Cito kill monster again. New monster come again.”

“We get it, they keep coming,” Gage grumbled.

“Monsters not stop,” Cito persisted. “Help Cito stop monsters?”

“I knew this would be a pain in the ass,” Gage grumbled.

Cito was confused. “Not doctor, but maybe find medicine for—”

“He’s not serious,” Holmes interrupted. “Of course we’ll help.”

Cito was delighted. “New friends follow Cito!”

It was no surprise when Cito led us to the primate house, but we were still a little shocked to see him calming his alarmed, uh, family with gorilla sounds. “No worry, they not hurt you,” he assured us. “You friend Cito mean you friend family.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gage started, but I talked over him.

“How’d you end up being raised by gorillas, Cito?”

“First family killed when Cito very small,” Cito said sadly. “First family look like Cito. Cito not die, just walk and walk. Find zoo place. Find new family.” He gestured to the gorillas, “New family give Cito food, water, keep Cito safe. Now Cito big and strong, help family fight monsters. New friends help Cito.”

“We’re going to try,” Holmes said. “Do you know where the monsters are coming from?”

Cito nodded, and told us a story about a "wrinkly man" (what we recognized as a ghoul) who stumbled into the primate house one day, wounded. The ghoul claimed to have created the monsters, and apologized. He gave Cito a holotape before he died, promising it would stop the monsters. Cito of course had no way to access the data, but held onto it after he buried the ghoul. 

He handed the tape to Holmes, "Now give shiny thing new friend. Help Cito."

"It’s a start," Holmes muttered, and played the tape on his Pip-Boy.

_"This is Dr. Darren McDermot, last known survivor-*cough*- at the Safari Adventure Replication Facility. This is my final recording. I've done something horrible... the thing I created... the thing I called the Gatorclaw-*cough*-... they must be destroyed. They can't be tamed, they can't be controlled-*cough*- their sheer ferocity is like nothing I've ever seen. And now the Nuka-Gen Rep-*cough*- Replicator is out of control. It's producing them at an alarming rate. Please, somebody. Anybody! Find my passcode, or Dr. Hein's. Shut down the Replicator before it's-*cough*- before it's too late. And if this recording should reach Dr. Hein. Please tell him… to forgive me."_

Holmes made a considering sound, "It seems the gatorclaws, or monsters, are coming from an animal cloning facility somewhere beneath Safari Adventure."

Cito was hopeful, "Shiny thing help new friend?"

Holmes nodded, "Yes, it was very helpful. We just need to find the cloning facility."

"Cito have idea!" Our host was excited, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Cito see Wrinkly Man come from Big Triangle House long time ago. Go to Big Triangle House. Find," he concentrated on the new words, "clo-ning fa-cil-ity. Stop Monsters. Cito come with new friend. Cito help!"

Gage snorted, "If you don't mind being gator bait, sure, tag along."

Cito suddenly focused on Gage with a smile more in line with a tiger than an ape. "Cito not bait. Cito hook."

Holmes laughed. Gage scowled for a moment, but huffed and decided to go back to ignoring everyone. That was just fine with me.

The "big triangle house" turned out to be the park's Welcome Center. There was a locked door of the sort that neither Holmes nor I could pick; we needed the passcode Dr. McDermot mentioned in his tape. I checked the employee terminal, hoping for a hint. What I found was a two-hundred year old ransom note for a kidnapped scientist by some save-the-animals organization. Bad timing on their part, what with nuclear armageddon happening the same day.

"A Dr. Hein was being held at something called an Angry Anaconda?" I reported with a questioning look at Cito.

And sure enough, he had the answer. I figured he would. "Oh! Maybe doctor under giant metal snake!"

"Giant metal snake," Gage sighed, "Of course."

Cito was amused, "New friend funny. How not see giant metal snake? It big... what word? Ride? Ride like big snake. Cito see from everywhere. Very big. Very snakey." He illustrated this with a wavy hand movement. 

“Oh yeah, because what this place needed was another friggin' roller coaster,” Gage grumbled.

"It up hill behind zoo,” Cito was unfazed. “Maybe Doctor Man there?"

"Excellent, Cito," Holmes said. "Let's head there immediately."

"How did you know an anaconda was a kind of snake, Cito?" I asked.

"Cito try learn words from zoo. Lots of words in zoo. Words and pictures. Cito see an-a-con-da in house with snakes."

"Snake house, huh?" Gage commented, "Now that's a place I could've gotten into back in the day."

"They'd never let you leave," I joked. "Mistake you for part of the exhibit."

We found the remains of Dr. Hein at the roller coaster construction site, along with his passcode. We were getting pretty good at taking down gatorclaws by then, and all of us were ready to never have to fight another one again.

We carefully made our way inside the cloning facility, moving through a research hall with holding spaces for animals, workstations, and cold storage.

"Cito no like this place," he said in a nervous whisper.

I nodded, "You and me both, friend."

The sound of something moving through water further in brought us to a stop. 

"Can gatorclaws swim?" I whispered.

Cito nodded.

"Great," I sighed.

"Where'd the water come from?" Gage wondered.

"The park's river," Holmes said. "Let's see what's ahead."

Fortunately, the flooding of the Nuka-Gen replicator control room wasn't as bad as I was imagining. Unfortunately, one of the two gatorclaws wading through it was significantly bigger and paler than the other one. Maybe sensing our goal was in sight, Cito charged the albino gatorclaw with a wild yell. Not to be outdone, Gage opened fire on the other one, while Holmes and I tried to keep either of them from getting killed. 

Ok, I’ll admit Holmes helped Gage. I focused entirely on Cito. Either way, the gators went down and Holmes wasted no time getting to the replicator controls. A few commands entered, and the replicator was shut down. 

“There,” Holmes said as he turned to Cito, “that should do it.”

Cito was cautiously hopeful, “No more Monsters?”

Holmes nodded, “They won’t be coming back, at least. Your family's safe, Cito, once we eliminate the ones still roaming the park.”

I got the impression Cito barely held himself back from hugging my partner, “Cito so happy! How Cito thank new friend?”

“You just did,” Holmes chuckled. “Let’s get out of this place, hm?”

We made our way out; I kept my eye on Gage. Now that the gatorclaws weren’t going to make a comeback, the park was fit for some new residents to move in… and Gage was going to make sure the flag was raised, whether Cito’s family wanted new neighbors or not.

“Once your family is safe,” Holmes asked Cito as we hunted down the remaining gatorclaws in the park, “will you stay here? There’s a lot more of the world to see.”

Cito thought about it, “Zoo Cito home since small. Zoo family home since forever. Cito want to stay. Only place safe for Cito family and Cito.”

Holmes sighed, "Of course. Cito, there are some people who will be coming to live here. I think you could get along with them, though they're… different."

"Cito trust you. Cito like more new friends!"

Once the park was gatorclaw-free, Holmes hoisted the Pack's flag on top of the Welcome Center. We said one last goodbye to Cito and headed back to Nuka-Town. 

"You think that was wise, Holmes?" I asked.

Holmes was adamant, "I’m not kicking him out of his home."

"Pack gets a new toy," Gage shrugged. "That’ll sweeten Mason up."

"I’m going to talk to Mason immediately," Holmes glared, "before his people move in."

"Talk?" Gage rolled his eyes, "Good luck with that."

Holmes ignored him. We followed Holmes back to the Pack's amphitheater and watched him stride through like he owned the place. Which I guess he did, in a manner of speaking. 

Mason stood from his throne as he saw him coming, "Just heard Safari Adventure has our flag! About time you got around to us."

"I thought you'd appreciate the selection," Holmes said. "There is one caveat; You will not harm, trap, or otherwise harass any of the gorillas living there, or the human living with them."

"What?" Mason growled.

Holmes was firm, "This is not a request, Mason. Cito and his family are not to be harmed. They leave you alone, you leave them alone."

"Or what?"

Holmes stepped up to the throne's platform, displaying their height difference and literally looking down on the Pack leader. "Or I will annihilate your authority as Alpha."

Mason bared his teeth, fists clenched… then he scoffed. "Hmf. Overboss has a backbone after all…" he trailed off and looked at Holmes with honest confusion, "Did you say this guy's family are gorillas?"

Holmes smirked and took a couple steps back, "I did."

"Huh. Alright, fine," Mason shooed us away with a wave of his hand, "I'll make sure everyone knows if they touch 'em, they're mole rat chow."

"Good," Holmes nodded, turned on his heel and left.


End file.
